We were young

With the entire world in front of us

We felt on top of it

The spoils of it all there for the taking

If we could just reach far enough and grasp it

Life wasn’t perfect, it never is

But for that moment it was as close to it as it ever was going to be

The thing is,

Good feelings never last forever.

“Hold still,” the officer briskly says, “120 days and not a single moment did you tell us that the bracelet was on too tight.”

Cairo shrugs his shoulder as the EMP officer struggles to cut the rubber bands of his ankle bracelet off with a pair of office scissors.

It was almost comedic as he watches the officer grunt in frustration as he emits extra than normal energy so both his hands can fully press down on the handles of the dull scissor.

“I mean,” the officer continues, pausing to take breaks between the removing process, “did it not bother you at all?”

“You get used to it,” Cairo replies, “sir.”

The officer shakes his head as he finally snips the last section of the strap. The bracelet falls with a deep thud as its electronic monitor hits the table rather flatly.

“Stay out of trouble young man,” the officer mutters with an air of skepticism, “I’d hate to see you in here again.”

Cairo thanks the man and proceeds out the metal doors into the main lobby. The feeling of his course denim jeans brushing up against his now naked ankles brought a sense of relief and pleasure as draft tickles the matted senses of his skin. A sensation he hadn't felt for three months.

“Cairo,”

Cairo looks to see Barry walking towards him. A sense of dread fills him as he witnesses his friend’s father stroll ever closer to him. Dread, not in the sense of retribution or punishment but of the tedious lecture he is sure this man will give him.

“How’d you like house arrest?”

Cairo makes a face.

“Absolutely terrible,” he dramatically replies, “I felt like I was going to go crazy”

“Steel bars and cement walls are through that door if you get tired of it next time,” Barry playfully teases.

Cairo sticks his tongue out equally playfully as he collects his belonging from the counter. Reaching into the plastic grey box, he retrieves the items belonging to him before his arrest.

He quickly grabs the pair of dice, it’s edges worn and surface roughed from constant use. He examines his old dinosaur phone, it’s plan already expired months prior. In fact, ironically, he bought it three days before he was put in handcuffs.

And his watch and chain. Simple things.  With stainless steel made to shimmer in the sunlight and plastic diamonds to glare in the breeze. Cairo shoves his returned items deep into his pockets and his jewelry back onto his wrist and neck.

Taking one last bitter look at the empty container Cairo reminisces about the contrabands confiscated and never returned. The paraphernalia and substances that obviously would never see the light of day, and the bank notes and priceless experiences that will forever sit in the evidence locker.

“I don’t suppose there’s a chance I could get back my wallet,” Cairo tenderly asks.

Barry stares hard at him.

Cairo shifts uncomfortably at the gaze.

“Not until we find out who’s its really from,” Barry comments.

Cairo begins to protest only to be shot down with a wave of Barry’s hand.

“And you won’t tell us where you got it from so until we found out how something that expensive ended up in your possession you’re not getting it back.”

“I told you,” Cairo replies feigning hurt, “I found some work. That’s how I was able to support my habi- I mean my multiple attire.”

“Work huh?” Barry mutters, “Where did you work? Who was your employer? What did you do? And how much did they pay?”

“Barry, those are some confidential information I don’t feel comfortable sharing.”

“Exactly.”

Cairo smiles mischievously as he is led out through the front doors.

“You know Ms. Martin is going to want to throw a party to celebrate,” Cairo starts.

“Is she now,” Barry muses.

“Yeah, and you know she’s going to want you there.” Cairo continues, “Although in reality it’s going to be a short celebration; some clapping and pizza, and then back to math.”

Barry chuckles at the Cairo’s cynical attitude.

“Son,” he says as he pats Cairo’s shoulder, “not every time will be like the first time.”

Cairo brushes the hands off him. He hated being touched no matter who it was from, and how familiar he or she was.

“Are you talking about my first release? Or for something entirely different?”

Barry remains silent.

“Barry, you’re not going to lecture me about how I’m ‘going down the wrong path’, and how I need to ‘fix myself before I hit eighteen’?”

“Do you want me to?” Barry questions.

Cairo quickly shakes his head. His “talks” usually last hours.

Hopping into the passenger seat of the extra-large SUV, Cairo squirms around with ecstasy as he settles himself into the leather seats. Like a cat kneading the area around it, Cairo soaks in his new environment. He always adored vehicles of larger proportions.

“This is a new car, huh?” Cairo gleefully comments.

“Bought this baby two weeks ago,” Barry triumphantly states, “Mimi helped choose it out.”

“She has good eyes,” Cairo says satisfied as he closes his eyes and breathes deeply. “It still got the new car smell.”